Wax on, Wax off!

Today, after a long time, I've actually done something stupid. Yes, I'll be the first one to admit it, and to top it all, I'm in physical pain because of it. I'm convinced, after my escapade today, that men have it easy. They don't have to endure the kind of physical pain women have to endure in our daily lives. We bear their children, and as if that wasn't enough, we torture ourselves to look beautiful for their sakes. What is wrong with us?
I am, as many of you may know, very low maintenance. I'm really not into the long, expensive trips to the salon for anything, other than my biannual haircut. My self grooming and beautification routine lasts 15 minutes every month, which still feels long every time I get down to doing it. I had found many years ago(20) that it was a waste of time and money, not to mention excruciatingly painful to undergo the tormenting rituals of being pretty. Why would I want to improve on perfection right? I had vowed never to subject myself to the sadistic sequence of beauty care, which left many of my friends temporarily scared (physically), and me for life (mentally).

Haircuts need professionals to be performed. I would never trust myself with my own hair, although my kids have no alternatives. But the rest of my body is easily dealt with at home, pain free, in fraction of the time & money, and by me. So, why do so many women subject themselves to the callous hands of the 'beauty salon person' (or whatever the appropriate term may be)? Is it to feel pampered? I personally don't think having your eyebrows or other body hair being ripped out by someone I've never met, don't trust, and whose hygiene may be questionable, as being pampered. It should be punishable by law. But alas, I may be one of the very few women who thinks so.

That was until today. For someone who barely tweezes her eyebrows, has never waxed (completely) in her life, I talked myself into doing just that. What an idiot!! The fact that I was scantly clad in a stained gown, in a freezing room didn't affect me. It was when I realized that waxing requires wax, heated to a temperature enough to embalm you, that I let my fear take hold. I have delivered three children without the help of pain medications, but today I needed a full body anesthetic. As if the hot wax hadn't completely scared me out my wits, I let the girls performing the procedure apply the piping goo, cover it with some sort of strip and OH MY GOD!!

No. I've decided never to fall prey to my own curiosity again, as least not in someone else's hands. I prefer living on the razor's edge and being cut, than being plucked like a chicken, for the sake of beauty.